


In Infinite Remorse of Soul

by winter156



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter156/pseuds/winter156
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The painful end of one relationship can be the wonderful beginning of another, if one is brave enough to risk one's heart in the process</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kin to Sorrow

Ron twirled Hermione, bringing her slowly around to face him again. Smiling, both enjoyed the quiet night away from the hustle and bustle of work, and the pesky reporters that hounded them. It had been a few years since they were front page news. But their approaching weddings were putting the spotlight back on the Golden Trio. It was fine most of the time, but after a long week all they ever wanted to do was get away. So the evening picnic and enchanted atmosphere was a perfect way to relax and forget their worries for a short while. Hermione hummed happily with the jazzy vocals of Muggle artists old and new. She had been pleasantly surprised when Ron had charmed the copse of tress surrounding them, softly filling the air around them with music.

"I didn't know you knew any of these singers," Hermione smiled up into the blue eyes of one of her best friends.

"I don't," he mirrored her smile pleased that she was enjoying herself. "I've charmed it so it plays whatever you're in the mood for," he cocked his head to listen more closely to the beginning strains of another heart filled ballad, "I suppose you were in the mood for slow and deep."

Hermione let a smirk quirk her lips as she raised a brow at his statement; chuckling as the tips of his ears turned red, "Indeed."

"That wasn't supposed to sound so dirty," amusement twinkled in his blue orbs, his embarrassment fading. A crooked smile pulled his lips up making him look like the little boy Hermione had met her first year at Hogwarts, so many years ago now. Her heart clenched, a wave of sadness unexpectedly sweeping through her. The music around them dimmed as the smile faltered on Hermione's face, the atmosphere around them taking on a somber note. _He deserves so much better._

A large, work calloused hand came up to cup Hermione's cheek, lifting the chin that had fallen to face him, his eyes soft when they met hers, "Hermione," he gently traced the skin under his thumb. Looking up into his tender gaze, Hermione felt the urge to cry. She closed here trying to staunch the desire.

Ron dropped a soft kiss on her forehead before wrapping strong arms around the small woman, holding her tightly. Hermione squeezed back just as tightly, burying her face in his broad chest. Desperately wrapped in each others' arms, the whole night took on a different feel, like the build up to something life changing. It felt like the year they were Horcrux hunting. The very atmosphere was charged with the expectancy of the next moment, as if all the future depended on each succeeding moment.

"Ron," her voice was muffled by his chest, but audible because the music playing around them had petered out to nothing. Silence surrounded them.

Ron pulled back from her slightly, looking at her strangely. Hermione kept quiet allowing his inspection to reach its natural end. She knew, from long experience, he would tell her what he was thinking when he was ready. His hands dropped to hold hers, the fingers on his right hand playing with the ring on her left hand.

He took Hermione's left hand in both of his own, lifting it between them. He inspected the ring she wore on her ring finger, twirling the metal band between his forefinger and thumb.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Hermione gasped, trying to pull her had away but he held it gently but firmly between his own, "What are you doing?"

Ron did not reply immediately as he slid his grandmother's ring off her finger, swallowing thickly at the sensation of his heart breaking. Looking down into confused brown orbs, he could not help the tears from pooling in his eyes as his throat constricted with the force of not letting them fall, "I'm setting you free."

Eyes oscillating between her ring-less hand and Ron's face, her mind was having a hard time processing what had just happened. Unsure of what to do Hermione said the first thing that popped into her mind, "What about your family? What will they think? They're all the family I have left, Ron."

"Nothing will change with them. They love you whether we are together or not," he assured, knowing he would have to explain to his family that this was completely his decision. He was certain, however, that they would not turn Hermione away.

"What about the press?" she asked, brow crinkled, mind flying to catch up.

"You don't even care about them," Ron reminded her as he lowered their hands and pocketed the ring.

Mind finally realizing what was going on, Hermione turned shocked eyes to Ron. Her hands automatically reaching for his, she desperately clung to him, her voice strained, "I don't want to lose you."

Ron licked suddenly dry lips, he was not entirely sure he was doing the right thing. His heart wanted to burst out of his chest. It jarred his ribcage, making it hard to breathe. "You won't ever lose me," he rasped through a constricted throat. "It may take a while to adjust," he said honestly, "but you won't lose me. I promise." He lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles reverently. "We've been friends too long to allow something as silly as a broken heart to get in the way of that," he tried to joke, though the lurching of his heart let him know it was a bad attempt. "We saved the world," he said seriously, "I think we can handle this."

"What if I don't want to be set free?" Panic filled Hermione's voice, her mind flashing the possible repercussions of ending things with Ron. "What if I want to be bound to you for the rest of my life? Why are you doing this?"

She could see his mental battle at her words. "Because I want you to be happy," he said slowly. "You are duty bound because you gave me your word when you accepted my proposal," he quickly continued so he could make her see his point before he lost his courage. "You will never back out of your word. I understand that." He sighed heavily, "But I also know that you have figured out a few things in recent months that have made you question whether this is a good idea after all."

"I love you, Ron," she said looking into his blue eyes in the waning light of the setting sun.

He lifted a hand to tuck a wild curl behind her ear, "I know you do, Hermione." He smiled a sad little smile that caused Hermione's heart to squeeze painfully. "But, you're not in love with me. Not really. Not the kind of love that sets your heart into overdrive. Not the kind where you see me and everything else falls away. Not the kind that makes you itch at my absence. Not the kind where I tilt your world by just stepping into a room. Not the kind of love that I feel for you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but could not lie to him. She closed her mouth and averted her gaze.

"You love me comfortably. I am a safe place for you," his eyes shone wetly with unshed tears, "And I am happy to even have had that much." He cleared his throat trying to clear the roughness from in order to finish saying what he needed to say. "And as selfish as I want to be," he took in a shuddering breath, "and believe me I want to be absolutely selfish but I can't. What I feel for you just won't let me," he took another breath, unable to breathe correctly around the constriction of his chest, "I love you too deeply to shackle you to a marriage that won't make you unbelievably happy."

Tears coursed freely down Hermione's face at the words coming out of Ron's mouth. Her heart beat sluggishly and felt uncomfortably restricted in her chest.

"And as much as I want to keep you and _never_ , _ever_ let you go," he stretched the words trying to emphasize how much he meant what he was saying, "I want you to be happy more than I want me to be happy."

"Ron, you do make me happy," Hermione said into the space between them hating the fact that he was hurting, "you…" Ron pressed a finger to her lips, stilling her words.

"You've never lied to me, or to yourself, it would be unwise to start now," sad blue eyes regarded her evenly, "I know who draws your eyes at any function she's present. I know who stimulates your mind on a level you crave. I know who challenges your views and skill and outlook. I know who holds your heart." He made a valiant effort to smile. "I never had a chance against someone like her; not in a million years."

Hermione took in a shaky breath, unable to stop her tears. Ron continued, his voice strained with the emotion that was choking his heart, "You really need to tell her how you feel. You need to take a chance at the possibility of being truly, deeply in love with someone," he gently let his fingers skim over the mark Bellatrix had left on her arm, "You've lived through too much to not experience that type of love."

"I can't do that to you Ron," her voice barely above a whisper, "I can't hurt you like that."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just giving you the freedom to make the choice to live fully," the tears in his eyes finally overflowing and streaking down his cheeks. He wiped at them hastily, "Bloody Hell, I swore I wouldn't cry."

The gesture was so completely Ron, Hermione could not help the chuckle that escaped her despite the tears still streaking down her cheeks, "You planned this?" She was almost incredulous.

Sniffling loudly, he wiped at his eyes again in vain, "I hadn't really planned on it being tonight." He shrugged and stopped swiping at his face, allowing himself mourn what he was letting go. "I honestly didn't think I would be brave enough to do this," he let out a mirthless laugh, "I suppose I am a Gryffindor after all."

A haunting melody filled the area surrounding them as the sun disappeared over the western horizon leaving the two figures standing in quickly waning twilight. Hermione hugged him tight, her tears wetting his shirt. Ron returned the embrace, his breath hitching, tears falling into chestnut curls as he silently grieved.

"You've always been a good man," Hermione spoke softly. Looking up at Ron, her heart broke at the pain this decision was causing him.

He cleared his throat, "Thanks for that." Piercing blue eyes caught a chocolate gaze, "Promise me I'm not doing this for nothing Hermione. Promise me you're at least going to try to talk to old McGonagall."

"She's not old," Hermione immediately defended, though a small smile caught her lips at Ron's orneriness. Shaking her head at him, she tried to explain things to him, "I can't do that Ron. It would be unlikely she even feels the same. And, even if she does, I can't imagine her just falling into anything with a former student."

"You have to at least try," he said, though the idea of her even trying to talk to the Headmistress of Hogwarts killing him. Setting aside his own desires, he tried to just be her friend. "You can't let that much too logical mind of yours make all the decisions. Let your heart make some of the choices." He looked at her, trying to imagine the girl that she was during their tenure at Hogwarts. "I know the Sorting Hat told you that you have the brain of a Raven, but there's a good reason you were sorted into Gryffindor. You are no coward, Hermione. You have the heart of a lion. Be brave and follow the lead of your heart."

"Did you just call me bird brain?" She asked, trying to inject levity into the situation. And realizing that the decision was already made: her engagement to Ron was dissolved. She felt guilty at the relief she felt mixed in with the overwhelming pain of hurting the man that stood before her.

"Caught that did you?" Smiling, he lowered his tear stained faced to Hermione's own tear streaked face. Foreheads resting against one another, noses touching lightly, azure and chocolate eyes locked. The intensity of their gazes broke the lightness of the previous moment. Pain painted blue eyes and guilt clouded brown eyes. "Be happy," echoed with finality in their shared space.

Eyes closed to block out the reality of their situation for a moment. Lips met gently, unhurriedly for it was the last time they would ever meet the other. The kiss lasted an interminable moment as the two souls inhabiting their bodies disentwined. It was a bittersweet parting. Tears fell from two tightly closed eyes as the kiss deepened in desperation, making it taste of sadness, guilt and shattered dreams.

It tasted of goodbye.


	2. Better Friends I'll Not Be Knowing

Hermione had been prepared for the wrath of the Weasley family. Anger, cursings, livid declarations of the public sort. Even hexes and banishment from the Burrow.

What she was not prepared for was the quiet resignation with which the entire situation was dealt with. It was almost as if everyone was expecting the engagement to be broken eventually. Everyone was treating it like an inevitability. It made her sick with disappointment. She felt like she had failed somehow. Even if Ron was the one that called it off, Hermione felt as if she had somehow been the one to put the look of sad acceptance on Arthur and Molly's faces.

The Weasleys did not shun or brush her off. But when she made herself visit the Burrow, at Harry's insistence, the atmosphere around the family seemed to quiet whenever she entered a room. During one such visit, she had excused herself to catch her breath from the torture she was putting herself through and had inadvertently run into Ron. She had wanted to reach out and comfort him, but refrained knowing it would only cause him hurt. It had been painful to see the droop of his shoulders and his eyes clouded with something she could not quite define. After that unintentional meeting, Hermione only ever saw Ron briefly, and always in the company of others.

In the days and weeks following the breakup, Hermione felt more out of place in the Wizarding world than she had ever felt before; worse even than when she was first introduced into the magical world at the tender age of eleven. The Weasleys behavior would have been enough to assure that, but unfortunately for Hermione, Rita Skeeter had somehow managed to get her clutches on the news of the breakup and had blown it across the front page of every newspaper she could sell the story to.

Hermione could only take so much scrutiny. That is why she had decided to meet Harry at a small cafe in the heart of Muggle London. She needed a respite from the gossip, and the looks, and the quiet, and the exhausting understanding. While Hermione was happy she had not incurred the wrath of the Weasleys, she could not help but feel as if the suffocating tolerance was almost as torturous as their wrath would have been.

Her mind returning to the present, Hermione noticed the extended silence from the other side of the table. Looking up with apologetic eyes, Hermione sighed softly, "I'm sorry, Harry. My mind wandered off."

He nodded in understanding taking a sip from his tea. He looked down at his watch and noticed he needed to leave to meet Ginny soon; so, if he wanted some answers from Hermione he needed to broach the topic quickly. He looked at the restless young woman across from him and decided even though both did not particularly want to discuss the topic of the breakup perhaps they needed to.

After a moment he finally asked what he had been curious about since Ron had shown up at his home several weeks prior drunk and sobbing before he promptly passed out on his couch, the ring he had given Hermione rolling from his limp fingers, "What happened?"

She knew exactly what Harry was referring to without him having to explain it. "Ron didn't tell you?" Hermione asked, surprise coloring her voice.

"Well," Harry began, "he kind of walked around in a daze at my house for a couple days a few weeks back before he said he needed to get away for a little while." Hermione listened, trying not to let guilt eat at her (for feeling such relief at being free of an engagement she knew was not what she wanted), it had been Ron's decision to end it after all. "He didn't say explicitly; he insisted that you would tell me if you wanted me to know. The ring he kept staring at was quite an indication, though." He pointedly looked at the ring less finger on her left hand. "When I asked him directly all he said was that it was for the best. And, that he would get over," Harry paused trying to come up with a delicate way of putting it.

"Me," Hermione helpfully supplied.

"Yes, you," Harry agreed pouring himself and Hermione more tea.

Silence stretched between them as Hermione gathered her thoughts. Taking a drink to give herself more time, wishing they were drinking something stronger than tea, Hermione looked up into Harry's green eyes, "He thinks I would be happier with someone else."

Harry's eyebrows rose at that, his cup stopping midway to his mouth, "Aaa," he sounded remarkably like Dumbledore, "I see."

Feeling woefully behind some learning curve she had missed, Hermione stared hard at Harry her brows furrowed in consternation. "I seem to have missed some vital piece of information somewhere along the line," she groused, "What have I so obviously missed?"

Harry shot her a placating smile which served only to set her nerves on edge. "Hermione," Harry said in an amused tone, "don't think I was too busy trying to not get killed by Voldemort and saving the Wizarding world not to notice you falling in love with old McGonagall."

"She's not old," Hermione immediately defended, not noticing Harry's smile at her immediate defense of the older woman, "...and who said anything about love?"

"Oh it is," Harry nodded sagely. "You're one of those intellectual types."

Hermione was not sure how to react to that statement, so she asked more curious than cross, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he shifted forward in his chair, the teasing fell away and the conversation suddenly became serious, "that you don't do illogical things like fall in love," his voice softened, "and when you do it is quite permanent."

"What are you saying Harry?" Hermione heaved a sigh running a hand through her chestnut mane. "Do you think I was playing with Ron this whole time?" Her voice sounded tired. "That I was stringing him along while I was in love with somebody else?" She looked at Harry her eyes flashing with weariness. "Do you really think so little of me?"

He sighed heavily shaking his head roughly, "No that came out wrong, Hermione. What I meant was that you don't do the spontaneous, love-at-first sight sort of thing where you go with your heart instead of your head."

Hermione felt like protesting but Harry did not give her room to interrupt. "I have no doubt you love Ron. But you love Ron sort of the same way you love me. Like family. Like a brother. Like a completely platonic friend who you can, and have shared, the most harrowing and molding years of your life with."

Horrified at the notion of what Harry was suggesting she felt for Ron, Hermione shook her head in protest. "Ron was a logical choice to continue into a deeper relationship with; to venture into a physical relationship. You didn't choose me because you and I are too much alike. We share the same background and history. We come from the same stock. I feel like your blood kin, so you couldn't have chosen me because it would never have felt right between us."

Harry softened his voice, not judging Hermione but needing to say his piece. "But Ron was enough removed from familiarity for you to feel compelled to pursue a romantic relationship with him. You already had years of knowing one another. You found one another attractive. You could live with the idea of being his wife and bearing his children. You loved, and love, Ron with a comfortable sort of love. A settled love that doesn't spark an unquenchable flame in you. It doesn't move you to heights and depths of unknown emotion. It is a love you can quantify and control. And while you were content in it, you weren't happy. Though your smiles weren't strained, they lacked brightness and they never reached your eyes."

Hermione dropped her eyes to stare into her tea as Harry continued speaking. "I've only ever seen you truly smile and be yourself around Minerva. You don't censor or dumb down your thoughts or your words around her. You come alive when you are around her. She makes you happy on a level I don't think you realize. So, I understand, truly, why you fell so had for Minerva. To find someone who gets you and who you don't have to hide from. That's very special."

Hermione looked distraught at hearing the longest speech she had ever heard from Harry. And he was not done yet, "Now, I know that while you have the heart of a lion, you are not one to jump into something you think is going to be an absolute failure. And I also know you hold your word as a binding promise and once you've given it out you don't ever back down or back out from what you've said. And while I admire those traits, they have worked to bind you into situations you can't escape. That is why you have never even consciously considered a relationship with McGonagall. And that is also why you accepted Ron's proposal and why you would never back out of it. Bottom lining it: despite that very large brain of yours, you're still as human as the rest of us and make mistakes like the rest of us."

"I should be terrified you know me so well," Hermione smiled tremulously holding tears at bay while she finally looked back up at her friend.

He reached for her hand and held it gently as he spoke softly into the space between them, "I would never use it against you." He smiled at her, squeezing her hand in a show of affirmation. "And, it is only because Ron and I know you so well that we can see these things," he soothed a fear that had steadily increased as he spoke, "these things aren't obvious to just anyone."

Hermione nodded getting her emotions under control, "There's still the question about what I should do?"

"Take a chance and talk to her," Harry responded casually. "You're no longer bound to a commitment. I say you risk it."

"That's easy to say, Harry," Hermione looked off into the distance, "but much harder to do." She shook her head and turned her eyes back to him. "She still calls me Ms. Granger. We are not equals. She still sees me as a student, nothing more."

"Have you ever given her permission to call you Hermione?" He asked thoughtfully.

"No," Hermione replied haltingly, "but we have known each other so long and been friends for almost as long that I thought it was implied she could."

"Have you ever called her Minerva?" He asked looking at her with an arched brow.

"No," she replied knowing where he was going with that question immediately, "but that's different."

"How?" he was smiling again. Hermione shot him a dirty look which just made him chuckle, "McGonagall falls on propriety and tradition when she's uncertain about how to proceed in a certain situation."

"Tradition and propriety dictate she would most definitely not respond well to any advance I would make toward her," Hermione logically pointed out, "I would risk our friendship for something that's sure to be little more than me humiliating myself."

"She's lived through two wars," Harry countered, "lost countless people: family, lovers, friends, acquaintances. McGonagall may fall back on tradition but she's no fool. If given the opportunity at happiness, she would take it."

"Then why hasn't she ever tried to make a move?" Hermione asked the obvious question, curious to hear Harry's answer.

"She would never want to sway your decision on something as important as this," Harry smoothly replied, "I don't believe her morals would allow her to make an overture for your affections because she would not want any reaction on your part to be due to any sense of misaligned loyalty you may feel if she tried to woo you." He had obviously thought about that answer. "If you want anything more than friendship from her, you're going to have to be the one to make a first move."

Hermione took a shuddering breath as she laid her palms flat on the table, piercing Harry with intensely curious eyes, "How are you so convinced Minerva would want something other than friendship from me?"

"Because she has a pulse," Harry cocked his head to the side, amusement making his eyes twinkle at the perturbed look the young woman shot him. Holding his hands up in defeat at her continued scrutiny, Harry hurried along with his verbal proof, "McGonagall finds in you what you find in her, Hermione. The freedom to be herself. She doesn't hide with you. You make her smile and laugh. You lighten some of the burden she carries. She comes alive around you. Who else does she ever allow close enough to do that for her?"

The question gave Hermione pause. She could not come up with a single name beside her own. "Harry, when did you become so insightful?" She was looking at him as if seeing him in a new light.

"At the same time Ron grew up into a good man," he replied, crooked smile firmly on his face, "that is to say, when you weren't looking." He drained the last of his tea, and looked down at his watch noting the time. "I wish I could stay and harass you more about old McGonagall," he laughed at the light slap Hermione gave his arm, "but I'm afraid I have to go."

She smiled as Harry stood to take his leave to meet Ginny about some arrangements for the coming wedding. She stood to hug him goodbye, her smile broadened and affection warmed her heart as he bent to lay a kiss on her forehead. Still holding her loosely, Harry leaned back slightly to be able to look into the young woman's eyes. "Love, Hermione," he spoke softly into the space between them, his eyes intently holding hers, trying to convey with utmost sincerity the importance of his words, "real love, the kind that leaves you breathless and witless and mindlessly happy, is worth any risk and any price. Don't let it pass you by for fear of the unknown."

_I don't plan to_ , her heart resolved without any input from her mind.


	3. My Soul Is All But Out Of Me

_Be brave. Be brave. Be brave._ The words spun around her brain like a mantra. Hermione found the task of making the first move to change her relationship with Minerva daunting. Her eyes locked on the formidable woman holding an animated conversation with an unfamiliar but handsome man. She felt an instant dislike for the man, while simultaneously feeling inadequate to pose any real competition.

_What if Harry and Ron were wrong? What if she just feels nothing for me but friendship? What if I make an utter and complete fool of myself?_ She fiddled with the flute of champagne she held, worrying her bottom lip as all the fears she had were played in an endless loop through her mind. Bringing the glass to her lips, Hermione tilted her head back, finishing what was left in one large swallow. Wishing she was drinking something stronger, Hermione felt the fluid slide down throat into her stomach. The flute immediately filled again.

She considered drinking more but a large hand plucked the flute out of her hands and put it on the tray of a passing server before she could think twice about it. Annoyed brown eyes lifted to pierce whoever took her alcohol away with a death glare. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, her ire forgotten, as she looked up to meet familiar blue eyes.

"You could never handle alcohol well," he said gently, "and you need to be sober for whatever you're planning on doing."

"Ron," she instinctively reached out for his hand, stopping short of touching him. The redhead closed the distance between their hands and squeezed gently, letting her know it was alright. He was alright. Hermione could still see pain in his eyes, but she could also tell that he was doing better. He was moving on. She felt a weight (that she had not known she was carrying) lift at his obvious improvement. Hermione was happy he was moving on with his life.

"The wedding was beautiful," Hermione said, broaching a safe topic, turning her full attention to him (temporarily ignoring Minerva and her handsome companion).

"It was, wasn't it?" Ron smiled widely, sincerely as he recalled the ceremony that had taken place a few hours prior. Hermione smiled reflexively, but genuinely. She was happy for the new Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter.

Ginny had looked absolutely stunning in her wedding dress. She glowed. Harry looked like the happiest man on earth when his soon-to-be wife walked down the aisle toward him. It had been the event of the year. Looking around at the still full house, it seemed like the entire Wizarding world had attended the wedding of the boy who lived, the leader of the Golden Trio.

"How long do you think people are going to stay?" Hermione asked, noting the large number of people socializing, dancing and generally milling about. It had been over an hour since Harry and Ginny had said their goodbyes and headed off to their honeymoon.

"Not sure," Ron answered looking at the crowd around them, "I'm not going to be around to find out." Blue eyes returned to brown, a sad smile gracing his features, "I just came to say goodbye. And good luck."

Hermione shook her head, "Why do you think I have anything planned?"

"The look in your eye, the set of your shoulders, the very air around you," he listed off, "you would get this way a lot growing up." He squeezed her hand again, "Do whatever you have planned. Don't talk yourself out of it."

Her eyes slid away from his, "What if it doesn't work?"

"Then you'll at least have tried and you won't live with the regret of never taking the opportunity," he said clearly speaking from experience.

"Our friendship," Hermione began only to be interrupted by the overriding voice of reason coming from Ron's mouth.

"Will survive this if it doesn't work," he said with conviction, "McGonagall is nothing if not loyal. You won't lose her friendship." He shifted his eyes over Hermione's shoulder before looking back down at her, "But, I can almost guarantee it will work out."

Hermione scrunched her brows at him, "How can you be so certain?"

"Because if looks could kill, I think I would've just been flayed alive," he responded, amusement coloring his words. Before Hermione could ask what he meant, Ron enveloped her in a hug. She returned the embrace warmly. He stepped back, leaning down to chastely kiss her cheek, he whispered, "Risk everything, Hermione. Happiness is worth it."

Hermione watched him walk away. Not quite certain what had just transpired, but her courage definitely bolstered. Feeling eyes on her, the young woman turned to see Minerva's eyes shifting away from her to focus back on her dancing partner. Minerva was dancing with the same handsome gentleman who Hermione had taken an immediate disliking to. The young witch felt a spike of something unpleasant crawl through her.

Hermione looked at Minerva steadily, steeling her courage for taking the first step. She swallowed thickly trying to control her suddenly wildly beating heart. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted it to tuck a rebellious curl behind her ear. _Making the first move is bloody difficult_ , she thought as she took a cleansing breath. But the unknown emotion coursing through her was making her brave. She did not want that man touching her Minerva.

Moving almost without thought, Hermione swept onto the dance floor. Stopping directly beside Minerva and the mystery man, she loudly cleared her throat, "May I cut in?"

Not giving the handsome stranger a chance to protest, Hermione simply replaced his hands with her own and moved Minerva into the next move of the dance. The young woman effectively stole Minerva away from the man. Hermione smiled in victory; unbothered by Minerva's scrutiny.

Feeling the intensity of the moment, Minerva played along (more than a little impressed, and flattered, at the aggressive side the young woman was displaying). Seeing the young woman mulling something over in her mind, Minerva simply stayed silent and allowed Hermione all the time she needed to decide whatever it was she struggling with at the moment. Her curiosity was definitely piqued, however, and she had to consciously force herself to remain quiet.

"Who was that man?" Hermione asked, unaware of the venom in her voice.

"He is an old acquaintance," Minerva answered carefully.

"Do you _socialize_ with all your acquaintances so comfortably?" Hermione unconsciously moved her hand to possessively grip the older woman.

Minerva arched a brow at the younger woman, frown marring her features as she looked down into fiery brown eyes. Not sure what was bringing out the jealous, possessive side of the brunette in her arms, "If I so choose, then, yes," she again answered carefully. "As you choose to _socialize_ with your ex-fiancé," she added with a hard edge to her own voice.

Confused at her own behavior, Hermione deflated somewhat. "He is a handsome man," she whispered grudgingly.

"He is also married," Minerva responded gently, understanding dawning on her, "with children who have been my students." She moved them off the dance floor to a fairly private balcony. "We were simply reminiscing," she soothed.

Hermione nodded. Needing space after her uncharacteristic behavior, she moved to the far side of the balcony bracing her hands on the stone railing. She felt Minerva follow but the older woman gave her wide berth. Hermione was quiet for moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "Why haven't you, in our long association and friendship, ever called me Hermione?" The young woman finally broke the silence.

"The easy answer," the older woman said as she moved to stand slightly to Hermione's left, "is that you have never given me permission."

"And the difficult answer?" Hermione whispered, gripping the railing in an attempt to quell any hope from rising in her chest.

Minerva was quiet for so long, Hermione thought she was not going to answer. Turning her head to look over at the older woman, Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach at the look Minerva was directing her way.

"The difficult answer," Minerva said softly, green eyes not straying from brown, "is that there is a line there neither one of us has ever crossed. A line that has become symbolic for something else entirely. A line that cannot be uncrossed once crossed. A line I cannot cross alone and without permission."

Knowing exactly what Minerva was saying, Hermione paused to think about her next move. Steady green eyes regarded her evenly, demanding nothing and expecting nothing, simply observing her. "You can call me Hermione," the young woman finally spoke into the intense moment.

Minerva's green gaze narrowed on her eyes and studied her for a moment. "And you may call me," Minerva answered after a brief pause, "Headmistress or Professor McGonagall."

Hermione let out a bark of laughter at the unexpected levity in Minerva's voice. The older woman's eyes twinkled as a smile tugged at her lips. Now that the younger woman was more relaxed she moved in to stand next to her, leaning casually against the rail of the balcony.

In another unexpected move, Minerva stretched her hand out for a handshake. Unsure about what exactly was going on, Hermione nonetheless extended her own hand and played along with whatever Minerva was planning. Electricity sparked up both women's arms at the simple touch.

Hermione swallowed thickly as Minerva shifted her hand inside their grasp and the older witch brought their joined hands toward her lips. Green eyes locked onto brown as gentle lips softly kissed the back of Hermione's hand. Fire spread from the point of contact up Hermione's arm, quickly enveloping her in a fusing heat that was as pleasant as it was slightly uncomfortable. The young woman could feel heat crawling up her neck, but she fought valiantly to keep the blush from her face.

"Hermione," Minerva almost purred against her hand, lips brushing every word onto the back of the young woman's hand, "I am Minerva." The older witch smiled as she straightened but kept her hand in Hermione's, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Is it really that easy?" Hermione wondered aloud, fondly squeezing the hand that still held hers. "A clean slate. A new start. Simply wish it and it becomes so," the young woman voiced uncertainly, her hand untangling from Minerva's. She half turned from the intense green gaze directed her way, hands landing once again on the balcony railing, eyes focused on the inky blackness interspersed with shining dots of light, she breathed in the night air trying to get her bearings.

Minerva leant back onto the railing, facing Hermione, only inches separating them. She crossed her arms over her chest and simply let her eyes roam over the lovely sight before her. "No," she stated after a long moment, her voice certain where Hermione's was not, "I have learned that nothing worth having is ever easy." The words ramped up the young woman's heart rate; Minerva could see the pounding artery, where the clavicle met her neck, beating a maddening tempo.

Silently releasing a short breath as her own heart suddenly pounded against her chest, Minerva tried to control the reaction the young woman created in her. Not allowing her eyes to slide further down Hermione's tantalizing chest, Minerva forced her eyes up to the young witch's face noting an arched eyebrow and a slightly confused gaze as Hermione considered where Minerva's eyes had been. A smirk suddenly painted the younger woman's lips, the raised eyebrow arched higher as she pierced Minerva with an amused look.

Minerva's back straightened a bit to put a few more inches of distance between them. She cleared her throat as her eyes shifted away from Hermione's, "It wasn't quite what it looked like."

"So," Hermione's voice had lowered and Minerva found herself swallowing involuntarily, "you weren't ogling me, then?"

Green eyes sliding back to brown, Minerva flashed Hermione an abashed smile. "A sight too tempting to pass up," the older witch admitted, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug reminiscent of many of her students.

Hermione blushed. But, she smiled at the unexpected forthrightness of the older witch. She did not realize she had lowered her head until slender fingers curled under her chin and gently lifted her face back up. Minerva cupped Hermione's face, thumb gently tracing the young woman's bottom lip, the space separating them decreasing by the second as the two women unconsciously leaned toward one another. "You are beautiful," Minerva whispered reverently making Hermione's blush deepen.

Eyes oscillating between half lidded green eyes and lips she knew she was moments from tasting, Hermione caught the sound of laughter and music from the party still in full swing on the other side of the curtains separating the balcony from the inside. Reality invaded the moment. She was seconds away from kissing Minerva McGonagall on a very public balcony at Harry Potter's wedding only a few months since dissolving a years-long relationship without even discussing the repercussions of the act with said woman. "No," escaped Hermione's lips as she stopped and pulled away abruptly to give herself some space to think and calm her erratic pulse.

Minerva's heart constricted painfully before quickly dropping to the proximity of her feet. Back immediately stiffening to ram rod straight, she fought to dampen all the emotion wanting to escape the confines of her chest. She still had her dignity. Raising every barrier she had let down, she tried to shield herself from some of the hurt coursing through her. Wanting nothing more than to apparate away from the situation, Minerva nonetheless gathered her scattered thoughts to salvage what she could of the friendship she had put on the line for a failed opportunity at happiness. "I seem to have misinterpreted the situation," she cursed the hoarseness of her voice, "I apologize, Ms. Granger."

Hermione caught her arm before she could fully turn away. Sliding her hand down, Hermione gripped Minerva's hand desperately. "No," she whispered near panic, "no, I didn't mean no." Brown eyes looked into inscrutable green, not able to read past the walls Minerva had erected. Licking her lips, the young woman continued, "I meant not here," she gestured to the party, "and not without talking about this first." Seeing Minerva's hard gaze soften, Hermione ventured, "And, I told you to call me Hermione." She tugged Minerva, turning the older woman to completely face her again.

Minerva visibly sagged in relief, "I can see at the very onset that I am destined never to win an argument against you."

Hermione smiled reflexively at the comment, "I don't know Minerva," the older woman smiled at how her name sounded falling from the young witch's lips, "you make quite a capable intellectual sparring partner."

Lifting a hand to cup Minerva's cheek, Hermione was pleased that the older witch leaned into her touch. "I'm sorry," Hermione explicitly stated, "I didn't mean to make that sound like a rejection. I don't want to reject you. In fact, I want to do exactly the opposite."

"This won't be easy," Minerva reiterated, "but we also don't have to make it impossible."

"I know," Hermione nodded, "but, I do think we need to at least talk about this before we do something that cannot be erased."

"Like kissing on a very public balcony at Harry Potter's wedding," Minerva spoke, sarcastic edge clearly evident in her tone, "with half the Wizarding world as witness," amusement snuck back into her voice, "and only a few months away from the dissolution of your engagement to Mr. Weasley."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the older witch, curious if magic was involved in the almost verbatim regurgitation of her thought before she had stopped the kiss they were so close to sharing, or if the two of them thought so similarly to one another. "Exactly," she said slightly suspicious.

"What?" Minerva asked her eyes wide and innocent, the smirk on her lips, however, belied her innocence. "I didn't read your mind if that's what you're thinking," her eyes twinkled as brown eyes narrowed at her. "It's obvious to read fears when one is as old as I am," she offered to appease the young woman.

"You're not old," Hermione immediately retorted, unable to stop herself.

A delicate eyebrow arched over sparkling green eyes, lips twitching to keep from smiling, "Experienced?"

"Let's hope one of us is," she mumbled.

Minerva's sensitive ears picked up the statement, which elicited laughter from the older witch, "You were always a model pupil: insatiable curiosity, quick learner, effective at practical application."

"I always did have an excellent teacher," Hermione teasingly replied, though she felt the innuendo begin to ratchet the intensity between them. Taking a mental step back, she shook her head, "Slow," she traced Minerva's face with her eyes, "we need to take things slow."

"Whatever you want," Minerva said seriously. Things would progress as slowly or as quickly as the young woman desired.

Squeezing the hand she still held in hers, Hermione made a decision, "Take me somewhere private." At the look Minerva sent her, Hermione hastily clarified, "To talk."

"Of course," Minerva smiled. Firmly holding Hermione's hand, Minerva apparated them to a summer home she owned on the Scottish Highlands.


	4. It Is Good To Feel You There

The young woman at her side brought Minerva's protective and cautious side to the forefront, making her more hyper alert to the environment than was normal even for her. Releasing the young woman's hand in order to reach for her wand, the older witch allowed Hermione a moment to regain her equilibrium while she made sure they were safe. The animagus scanned their surrounding, old habits from two wars too engrained in her psyche to ignore. Voldemort, and all his followers, had long since fallen (either to death or captivity), but the Headmistress knew evil existed regardless of figurehead.

Feeling the slight vertigo pass, Hermione studied the tense set of Minerva's form a moment before taking in what she could of their surroundings. The grounds were isolated. Hermione smiled at the predictability of the older witch. She knew that Minerva loved her students. And, she loved the work she did at Hogwarts. But, when a spare moment was available she liked to take it in private. Minerva loved solitude and she liked getting away from people from time to time. She liked not having to be what was expected of her all the time: the venerable Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, most powerful witch of her age, best friend to the late Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration master. Sometimes Minerva liked to just be Minerva.

Brown eyes turned to the silhouette of the older witch noticing a visible relaxing of tense shoulders as Minerva was seemingly satisfied that they were safe. Green eyes, that seemed to glow in the dark surrounding them, turned to meet brown. Questions burned to be let out into the space between them, but Hermione held them in check not wanting to ruin the moment with unnecessary conversation. They would have time to talk. Right now, the young woman was simply going to enjoy the presence of the other woman.

Hermione felt Minerva's warm hand again encase her own. The move felt natural. There was a rightness to the gesture that sent a wave of affection through the young witch. She felt no sense guilt or regret. Without a word, the women began their journey. The young woman deferred to the lead of the animagus as Minerva carefully led them through the outskirts of her property, through the barriers erected to protect her home against any intrusion.

Hands entwined, the duo walked through the moonlit night at a leisurely pace. It was inadvertently an inherently romantic stroll. The soft song of a nightingale, with an accompaniment of crickets, meandered its way to the ears of the couple as they crested a small hill.

Breath catching in her throat, Hermione stopped as her eyes stared in open wonder at the sight before her. The night sky above the small cottage-not more than a hundred feet ahead- was alight with breathtaking hues of color. Reds, greens, blues and purples all coalesced and merged, painting the night sky in muted, but resplendent light; the light danced as if a living watercolor had been splashed across the heavens with the full moon bright and proud astride the vivid hues. "That is absolutely breathtaking," came the awed whisper from the young woman as her eyes stayed riveted on the sight before her.

"Aye," came the equally hushed and awed voice of the animagus, her eyes riveted not on the night sky, but on the young woman marveling at it, "'Tis the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on."

Feeling eyes on her, Hermione turned to see Minerva's gaze firmly fixed on her face. The young witch blushed at the intense attention, and the compliment, as green eyes traced her features in the dark with apparent wonder. Her breath hitched slightly as the animagus eliminated the distance between them.

Minerva stopped short of physical contact. She heard a small sigh escape the dark eyed beauty that had turned to fully face her; she was unsure if it was a sigh of relief or disappointment. Hoping it was the latter, Minerva brought her hands up to cup Hermione's face. Pulse racing erratically, in equal parts nervousness and excitement, she unconsciously leaned her tall frame closer to the face held between her hands.

When Minerva stopped again, Hermione moved her hands (which up to that point had hung at her sides for lack of knowing what to do with them) to the older woman's waist and pulled her flush against her body. Both women groaned at the full body contact. Not taking a moment to consider her actions, Hermione closed the small gap between their faces. Standing slightly on tiptoes, the young woman surged up, fusing her lips to Minerva's.

For a moment the world stopped. Soft lips moved in tandem, igniting a fire that increased in heat each passing second. Aching need spread through each woman as their blood burned through their veins. A deep moan reverberated through Minerva's chest, sounding closer to a purr, as the animagus opened her mouth to give entrance to the insistent tongue sliding against her lips. The first touch of tongues caused simultaneous moans to erupt from each witch and throbbing wetness to pool at the juncture of two sets of thighs.

Shuddering against the full curves pressed against her, Minerva let her hands slide around Hermione's shoulders pressing herself impossibly closer the intoxicating woman. Hermione unconsciously followed Minerva's example and allowed her arms to encircle the older witch's lower back, not leaving even a millimeters space between their two bodies as hands bunched the cloth on that lean back and tugged possessively.

One kiss turned to several under the witness of a dancing aurora borealis and set to the choir of nightingales and crickets.

When the need for air outweighed their desire, kiss swollen lips separated and ragged breathing filled the ears of the two witches. Eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, the women tried to fill their lungs with much needed oxygen. Minerva groaned when she became conscious of the exaggerated press of Hermione's breasts against her own every time the young woman drew in a ragged breath.

Eyes opening at the sound, Hermione could not help but smile smugly at the sight of the Headmistress of Hogwarts pressed against her, heart beating wildly, eyes closed, panting, flushed and wanting because of her kisses. Full lips descended once again, but Hermione was not aiming for Minerva's mouth. Instead, the young woman peppered kisses along a strong jaw before slowly pressing open mouthed kisses along what she was finding to be a very sensitive neck.

Moaning low and long as Hermione hit a particularly sensitive spot, Minerva moved a hand up to the young woman's neck holding her in place as she laved her neck with deliciously pleasurable kisses. Feeling her knees losing strength, Minerva gathered what she could of her scattered thoughts and tried to form a coherent sentence. Her first few attempts were little more than breathy moans.

"Hermione," the Headmistress finally expelled, though it sounded more like encouragement than the explicit desire to stop. And Hermione took it as encouragement, humming against the throat she was kissing before dragging her lips back up to Minerva's lips, making the older witch forget that she was attempting to get the young witch's attention in the first place.

"I thought you wanted to talk," Minerva tried again after her lips were released, though she was dizzy with desire and was not at all sure that was a statement she should be making.

"I _thought_ I did, too," Hermione rejoined in an unsure tone, after a much longer pause than was usual. Her own desire making her thought process stagger and slow. _I've never felt like this before_ , Hermione thought, breath rapid and shallow, _This need so intense; so out of control._ Eyes dilated to black pools of desire stared up at Minerva causing the older woman to swallow thickly as her own need ached within her.

For a moment, Minerva considered simply taking Hermione under the stars. She desired nothing more than to disregard anything past this particular moment. But, she knew Hermione's first response had been to seek answers; to still the loud questions of her mind. By her very character, Minerva could not take advantage of the desire robbing the young woman of her higher mental functions. _Damn honor_ , Minerva thought almost bitterly as she stepped back from Hermione.

Not understanding what Minerva was doing, Hermione remained still, her brow furrowed in confusion as her mind tried desperately to understand why their bodies were no longer pressed together and within kissing distance. The sudden and unpleasant fear that gripped her heart was quickly dissipated when the animagus took her hand and resumed their trek to the cottage.

By the time they reached the cottage, the intense arousal that enveloped them was simmering under a tighter pretense of control. Their minds, at least, were somewhat clearer. Minerva ushered Hermione through the threshold. Hermione immediately noticed the cottage was as small inside as it had seemed from the outside. She could see the entirety of the place from where she stood just over the threshold of the home.

The entry way led to a comfortably sized living room, with an impressive fireplace, decorated in earth tones with dark woods and bright tartan cloth dominating the accessories of the room. Hermione could not help but smile at all the filled bookshelves that lined the walls. On the left wall she spotted a single door where she could see a partial view of what looked to be the only bedroom in the cottage. She swallowed at the implication of spending the night; excitement setting her pulse in a perpetual state of increase. Moving her eyes to a safer place, she turned and saw a small kitchen opposite the bedroom separated from the living room only by a counter area that served as a breakfast bar.

"I'd give you a tour," Minerva's voice broke into Hermione's perusal, "but it wouldn't be much more informative than what your eyes just told you." Still holding Hermione's hand, the animagus led the young woman to sit on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar as she prepared to busy herself making tea.

Before Minerva could take a full step around the counter, Hermione stopped her with a hand on her arm. Turning a questioning gaze on the young woman, Minerva waited. "Thank you," Hermione let go of her arm, "for stopping and giving us a chance to talk about this first." A slight blush tinged her cheeks as she forced herself to maintain eye contact, "I'm not sure I could've stopped. I didn't want to stop." Minerva forced her gaze away from Hermione's face as a pink tongue peaked out to wet full lips and the young woman continued in a much deeper and thicker voice, "That kiss was…"

The animagus' smile was completely smug and self satisfied. It was more than a small ego boost that she had left Hermione speechless. "Cat got your tongue," she teased noting the dreamy look on the young woman's face.

"Hhmm," Hermione answered absently, "the cat definitely had my tongue a few moments ago. And, I wouldn't mind getting back to that."

Minerva groaned. "We aren't going to get much talking done if we continue with this particular line of thought, Hermione." Placing both hands on the counter in front of her, the animagus took a cleansing breath before getting busy with their tea.

"I take it this isn't a place you come to work," Hermione commented, having noted a distinct absence of den or office area and needing to move to a safer topic. She rested her elbows on the counter in front of her, laying her chin on her entwined hands, eyes following Minerva's every move. She wanted nothing more than to walk around the counter and kiss the other woman senseless again. But, she knew they did need to talk. Even if only to briefly confirm they were on the same page.

Minerva could feel Hermione's gaze on her, the tremor present in her hands confirmed that, but she had promised to move at the younger woman's pace. So, she was steadfastly ignoring the simmering arousal that was a step from consuming her; instead focusing on busying herself with steeping their tea. "No," she replied to Hermione's query while looking for Ginger Newts to go with their tea, "I come here mainly to get away from work, and everything associated with work." Smiling in triumph at locating a tin can with the biscuits, she moved them to the tray where she had placed the tea. "In fact," she continued as she moved to the living room with the laden tray, "no one actually knows I own this property. I bought it a few years ago from a Muggle realtor for that specific purpose. I needed a place where I could disappear and not worry about being found."

Sitting gently next to Minerva with her body angled to face the older woman, Hermione digested that bit of information as she was handed a cup of steaming tea. "And," the young witch took a sip of her tea to give herself a bit more time to process what she wanted to say, "you brought me to your private sanctuary." The mystified tone made the statement sound like a question.

"You did say you wanted to speak somewhere private," Minerva replied, "and I trust you." Taking a sip of her own tea while she studied the young woman, the older witch decided to be completely honest, "And, when I think of getting away from everyone, it never includes you. I never think of getting away from you."

"Minerva," Hermione set her tea aside and seriously looked at the woman in front of her, "what are we doing?" She shook her head in honest contemplation, not giving Minerva a moment to actually answer her question. "I mean, I know what we did a few minutes ago. And, I know what I want to do tonight. But, what are we doing? What do you want to do?" And Minerva knew she meant with their friendship, with their future.

Fear clutched at Hermione's heart as she put her questions forth. War had taught her to weigh every action and take the most cautious route. War taught her risk usually ended in disaster. To succeed in war, a plan was needed. You did not win by luck. You won because the balance was in your favor. Here, alone with Minerva, was an unplanned situation. She was risking her heart without first having weighed if the benefits outweighed the costs. She was dependent not on caution and careful planning but on hope and luck to see her through.

"I want to do whatever you want to do, Hermione," was Minerva's simple answer as she set her own tea aside and evenly regarded the young witch.

The young woman released a breath she did not know she was holding. "How are you so calm about this?" Hermione asked more than a little surprised at the Headmistress' reaction to this tremendous change in their relationship.

"I have had years to work through my feeling for you," green eyes reflected emotions she had yet to voice.

"You never indicated anything other than friendly companionship," Hermione said almost accusingly.

"I could not," Minerva tried to explain and take away the slight hurt she could hear in the other woman's voice, "you respected and valued my opinion too much for me to voice anything other than that. I did not want to sway your decision simply because you thought you owed it to me out of loyalty or respect."

"I was not a child. I could have made my own decisions," Hermione was not sure what she felt exactly at the revelations she was hearing. Confusion mostly, and regret at all the years wasted.

"Legally you were, and at the time that was more than enough to stop me," Minerva's voice was slightly strained at having to defend herself to the one person she never thought she would need to explain those particular decisions.

"And afterwards?" Hermione asked, hands coming to rest on top of Minerva's to ease the strain of the conversation and to let her know she understood and she was just curious.

"Mr. Weasley managed to beat me to the punch, as it were," Minerva explained, "And, I would never be a hindrance to your happiness. Even though it killed me every time I saw you both together."

"I feel like I should apologize for putting you and Ron through that," brown eyes slid closed as she thought back years she could never get back.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Minerva's voice was soft but full of conviction.

Hermione suddenly did not want to talk anymore. She wanted to just be in the moment, and take things as they came. Giving in to her sudden impulse, she pulled Minerva to her and captured her lips in a searing kiss. A kiss that dissolved fears, past and present. A kiss that righted her world.

"I suppose we are done talking then," Minerva let out breathlessly when she was released. In lieu of an answer, Hermione recaptured her lips while small hands worked on the closures of her robes. Breath escaping her at the young woman's intent, Minerva worked valiantly not to hyperventilate at the prospect of her dreams coming true.

Pulling the young woman to her feet, Minerva cupped Hermione's face. Tracing the delicate skin underneath her fingers, she waited until brown eyes locked with her own. "For the sake of clarity," the animagus began, "let me say this as plainly as I can. I love you Hermione Jean Granger. I love you with everything I am. I want you. And, I want to be with you. I want whatever you want to give. Even if it is only tonight," she swallowed, "or if it is a lifetime you want. I want to give you everything." She dropped a kiss on the tip of the young woman's nose, "I love you."

Glowing brown eyes closed as Hermione's mouth gently sought out Minerva's. "Show me, Minerva," came Hermione's breathy command a moment after the kiss ended, "Take me to bed."


	5. I Love You Only Because It's You The One I Love

Coming slowly to consciousness, Hermione's mind was free of thought, the only thing registering was sensory input. Something soft and unbelievably warm underneath her. A soft, purring sound reached her ears, making her drift in a haze of happiness for an unidentifiable reason. Nuzzling closer to impossible softness, the young woman pressed herself bodily against something smooth and _naked_. Brown eyes snapped open. Hermione's heart and lungs seized for a moment as she took in the vision before her: Minerva splayed out before her.

The chocolate gaze devoured the witch. Breath hitching as her eyes finally settled onto startling, intense green. Hermione swallowed thickly. Pushing herself up to hover over Minerva, the young woman wasted no time in fusing their mouths. Not a single thought of regret, remorse or hesitation flitted through her brain. All she could think about was having the woman below her; slowly worshipping her like she deserved.

Taking most of her weight on her forearms, Hermione laid herself completely atop of Minerva. Each witch moaning softly at the immediate frisson of want that enveloped them at the contact of flesh on flesh. Eyes almost black with desire traced the elegant contours of the face of one of the most powerful witches in recent history, a transfiguration master, an intellectual of the highest caliber, a very important person in the Wizarding community, and a normally reserved, private individual. The fact that she was allowed to see and experience the woman beneath all that, that she was given the privilege to see the whole woman, humbled Hermione.

Shifting her entire weight to her left arm, she raised her right hand and let her fingers trace the path her eyes had taken. She caressed the noble eyebrows, traced the defined nose, and lingered on kiss swollen lips. Her eyes reflected the awe, affection and love filling her heart. "God, you're so beautiful," Hermione whispered reverently, "I love you so much." She heard the animagus' breath catch at the statement.

Sliding her hand into ebony tresses and pulling Minerva slightly up, the young woman sealed the statement with a kiss. A slow, deep, languid meeting of mouths that started a fire along their nerve endings.

Minerva moaned into Hermione's mouth as the young woman made love to her mouth. Her arms encircled a trim waist before her hands raked up a lean back and tangling in chestnut curls, deepening the kiss. Arching up into Hermione, Minerva's breasts rubbed against the brunette's igniting lines of fire directly to her core. Her nipples hardened to aching points with each brush of the young woman's own hardened nipples against her own. Already wet and ready, the animagus thrust her hips upward trying to find some friction to relieve some of the tension building inside her.

Releasing her mouth to trace kisses across the Headmistress' jaw and down her neck, Hermione pinned Minerva's hips with her weight, centers pressed but not allowing movement. Minerva licked her lips and moved to give Hermione more access to her neck while simultaneously sliding her hands to the young woman's backside in an attempt to bodily move Hermione against her; to cause delicious friction so her blood would not boil in her veins at the heat coursing through her.

Her efforts met staunch resistance. The brunette was apparently much stronger than she looked. Squeezing the firm globes under her fingers, Minerva was pleased at the shiver and exhaled gasp that went through the woman above her. Trying to move Hermione's hips again, the animagus let out a grunt of frustration at the continued resistance. "Hermione, please," she whimpered, turning to capture the young woman's lips.

Pulling back slightly, Hermione allowed her hand to trace down Minerva's neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum, along her flat stomach, over her hip, and along the outside of her thigh to her knee and torturously slowly back again. Minerva practically vibrated with need beneath her. "Patience, love," the Headmistress could practically hear the smile in the brunette's voice, "you deserve to be worshipped."

Unable to form coherent words, Minerva swallowed thickly and concentrated on the sensations Hermione was eliciting from her body. Her breathing fast and shallow, vision tunneling, and center very wet with desire, the Headmistress gave herself over to her lover.

Hermione traced her hand up to Minerva's heaving chest, gently palming each breast before softly capturing the nipple and rolling it between her fingers. She alternated from one breast to the other delighting in the constant gasps, moans and whimpers coming from the animagus' mouth. Shifting the position of her lower body, Hermione opened to her knees widening and opening Minerva's knees along with hers, allowing their wet centers to touch completely.

The brunette shuddered at the intimate contact while the Headmistress released a long, low moan. Rolling her hips experimentally, Hermione released a sharp breath at the sensation that exploded in her center. It felt incredible. When the hands still attached to her bottom squeezed in encouragement, the brunette snapped her eyes shut and bit her lips to keep from frantically grinding them both orgasm.

Once she got herself slightly under control, Hermione opened her eyes to look into green eyes gone almost completely black in need. She rolled her hips slowly into Minerva watching her eyes dilate even further. Setting a slow, grinding pace, the young witch resumed gently rolling rock hard nipples between her fingers. The moans coming from the animagus were a continuous litany now.

Hermione pressed herself harder against Minerva, their clits rubbing deliciously together causing spots to erupt behind their eyes. Feeling herself close to the edge, the brunette sped up her thrusts. Minerva met her thrust for thrust, tightening the hands on the young woman's butt to bruising intensity the closer she got to release.

Lowering her lips to the thundering pulse point at the juncture of Minerva's neck and shoulder, Hermione opened her mouth to mark the spot. Teeth nipping and hand unconsciously squeezing the breast still in her palm, the young woman felt the animagus arch into her, tense and release a long, high keen. Thrusting once more, Hermione followed her into release.

Slumping in boneless heap on top of the Headmistress, the brunette reveled in the afterglow. Head somehow having landed on Minerva's chest, she listened to the steadying heartbeat of the woman beneath her. Content to lie there for a minute listening to the strong, steady heart of the woman she loved, the young woman let her mind wonder to the previous night. _Show me_ she had told Minerva. And the woman could certainly take direction well. A smile spread across her face. The older woman had certainly showed her how much she loved her; and in many different ways. Heat began to suffuse the young woman again just thinking about what Minerva had done to her, and what she had done to Minerva.

Feeling the chest rise and fall beneath her, Hermione returned to the present, shifting her weight back onto her arms to give Minerva some breathing room. Placing a kiss to the side of the animagus' neck, Hermione offered her apologies, "Didn't mean to crush you."

Lithe arms wrapped around the young woman's shoulders and lean legs encircled her waist, "It's good to feel you there." Hermione's groaned softly as she nuzzled the Headmistress' neck, her desire ratcheted higher at the feel of Minerva's center spreading her wetness across her belly.

"We're never getting out of this bed," Hermione playfully bemoaned trailing open mouthed kisses down Minerva's chest, one hand sweeping down the inside of one of the thighs wrapped around her.

"I fail to see the issue with that," Minerva gasped as a warm mouth enveloped her once again hardening nipples.

As Hermione oscillated between each breast, she slipped her fingers through Minerva's drenched slit groaning in tandem with the woman beneath her at the feel of the wet flesh. Keeping her fingers away from the over sensitized bundle of nerves, the brunette slid her finger languidly through Minerva's folds. Teasing the woman's entrance, Hermione smiled into the breast she was suckling at the Headmistress' grunt of frustration at the, yet again, slow and gentle pace. The young woman knew it would not take much at this point to put the animagus over the edge again, Minerva was so ready.

Slipping two fingers gently, slowly, deeply into the Headmistress, Hermione groaned at the feel of the velvety flesh pulling her fingers deeper. The air quickly filled with the sounds of Minerva flying headlong into orgasm again. The brunette kept the pace slow, gentle and deep already feeling the telltale clenching around her fingers.

She took each puckered nipple into her mouth once more before kissing her way down Minerva's abdomen. The animagus laced both hands into Hermione's wild mane encouraging the young witch in her exploration. The brunette's heart tripped in excitement at the prospect of tasting the woman before her for the first time. Minerva's heady aroma was making her mouth water. Impaling her fingers deeply, curling them up toward her and pulling out slowly before pushing back in, Hermione felt the hands on her head tighten around her hair. Kissing the top of Minerva's mound, the brunette looked up to see glazed eyes staring at her intently. Keeping her eyes on the Headmistress' eyes, she descended, tongue swiping the length of Minerva before latching onto a hard, pulsing clit.

Throwing her head back into the pillow beneath her and arching into Hermione's mouth and fingers, the animagus howled her release to the rafters. The brunette pumped her fingers and gently lapped at Minerva's core lengthening the Headmistress' orgasm as long as possible.

Feeling the hands tangled in her hair tug her away, Hermione gently removed her fingers from inside Minerva and moved her mouth away from the woman's center. Sliding up the sated woman's body, she was surprised as the animagus surged up and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

A moment later she looked up into Minerva's wickedly smiling face wondering when she had ended up on the bottom. Thought escaped her as the animagus wasted no time in getting down to business. Insistent finger tweaked her already hard nipples to almost painful points before a warm tongue descended to envelop each in warmth.

Arching into Minerva's mouth, Hermione could feel herself at the edge of the precipice just from the attention the older woman was laving on her breasts; she was already close from watching Minerva come undone. The Headmistress pushed the brunette's knees further apart, opening the young woman to her. Hermione tangled her hands into ebony tresses as the animagus moved down her body.

Hips bucking up at the feel of a slightly roughed tongue against her center, Hermione's hands tightened and held Minerva close to her. She shuddered at the feel of Minerva lapping at her like she imagined a cat lapped at a bowl of milk. A loud moan erupted from her throat as the roughened appendage slipped into her body, touching her insides with hot wetness.

Minerva groaned at the taste of the young woman causing another tremble to shake Hermione's body. Knowing the brunette just needed a little push, the animagus brought right hand up to gently pinch the protruding bundle of nerves begging for attention. Pushing her tongue deeply into Hermione and rubbing her clit, Minerva pushed the young woman over the edge.

A loud groan accompanied Hermione's release, her hands tightly holding Minerva to her center as she rode out her orgasm. Collapsing in a sated puddle onto the bed beneath her, the young woman tried to catch her breath. She did not even turn as Minerva flopped down on her back beside her. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room.

"Good morning," Hermione exhaled blissfully after some minutes, still dazed in the afterglow.

"It's certainly looking that way, yes," Minerva's amused response reached the young witch's ears making her smile happily.

"Well," the young woman turned her head to face Minerva, "we have, at least, one thing perfectly settled in all this."

Turning her gaze to the young woman, Minerva raised a questioning eyebrow, smile pulling at her lips, "And, what would that be?"

"The hot, hot sex," Hermione said in a serious tone, her eyes sparkling with mischief and happiness.

The unexpected statement pulled a genuine laugh from Minerva who turned to wrap her arms around the young woman. "Hmm," she hummed gently rubbing her nose to Hermione's affectionately, "I'm glad we talked about that."

Hermione returned the embrace a smile seemingly permanently fixed on her face, "I don't recall a lot of talking being involved." She squeezed the skin below her hands to emphasize her point, smile turning smug at the small moan that escaped the other witch at the touch.

Not one to be outdone, Minerva soundly kissed the smiling mouth in front of her. "Words are not always a necessity in communication," she husked when she released the full lips.

"Mmm," Hermione mumbled her lips following and recapturing Minerva's. The kiss, gentle and soft, was suffused with more affection than heat. The kiss petered out naturally; the women rested their foreheads together looking deeply into the other's eyes. Wrapped comfortably in each other's arms, they simply reveled in one another's presence, fingers tracing imaginary patterns along supple skin.

Tucking a rebellious curl behind Hermione's ear, Minerva broke the quiet moment, "How about we take a shower and then have some breakfast?"

"Together?" Hermione asked for clarification. At Minerva's nod, the young woman's mind immediately sprung up imagery she did not have strength to execute at the moment. "Perhaps, it would be better if you took one first and I'll follow after," she suggested.

Minerva silently agreed. Chastely kissing Hermione before disentangling herself from the young woman, the animagus slipped from the bed and made her way to the bathroom, smiling at the feeling of eyes following her every move.

* * *

Hermione transfigured the clothes she had discarded last night into a pair of comfortable khakis and a blue oxford ( _very Muggle_ , she thought idly). She slipped them on and walked barefoot out into the patio where Minerva had set up a light breakfast.

Stopping at the threshold, she drank in the sight before her. Minerva seated teacup raised to her lips, black and gray tresses pulled back in a loose ponytail, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, barefoot, smiling; looking happier than she had ever seen her. Love for the woman washed over Hermione with such intensity that she had to furiously blink back tears; the animagus literally took her breath away.

Sensing her presence, Minerva turned to the young woman. Green eyes sparkled with warmth and love as they regarded the brunette. "Hey," Hermione whispered, blush catching her unawares, sudden shyness asserting itself even as she mentally rolled her eyes at herself.

Minerva smiled widely at the young woman's reaction, "Hey."

Shaking her head at herself, Hermione walked out to sit in the chair next to Minerva graciously accepting the cup of tea the woman handed her. Taking a sip, brown eyes searched green. "This changes everything, doesn't it?" Hermione was not sure exactly why she was asking that.

Looking into her tea for a moment, Minerva gave the question a moment's consideration. "Only if you want it to," she finally answered, her eyes meeting Hermione's in almost sad contemplation.

"Do you want things to change, Minerva?" Hermione bit her lip eyes skirting away before returning to still painfully open green eyes contemplating her with curiosity.

"God, yes," Minerva exhaled emphatically. Steeling her courage, the animagus lobbed the same question back to the young woman. "What about you, Hermione, do you want things to change?"

Chocolate eyes looked at her with an unreadable expression. Something akin to fear slithered uneasily into the pit of the Headmistress' stomach. "Ron," Hermione said, eyes looking out into the vast blueness of the sky, "he, and Harry, encouraged this. They wanted me to take the chance. They wanted me to be happy."

Minerva was silent for a long moment as she considered this new information. "Then," she began haltingly unsure of where exactly this conversation was heading, "they both must love you very much. Ronald, especially."

Hermione tilted her head asking for explanation without uttering a world. Minerva indulged her, "If I would have been in his shoes, I highly doubt I would have been able to let you go. He is a man of the highest integrity, and I greatly admire him for it. I hold a great deal of respect for Mr. Weasley; his recent actions have only increased that esteem."

Nodding, Hermione agreed wholeheartedly. "I do hope he finds someone who deserves him." Eyes turning back to the woman across from her, the young woman continued, "I value Ron and Harry's opinions, but I generally don't follow their advice unless it is logical and expedient." The fear gripping Minerva seemed to multiply and grow, wrapping its icy tendril around her heart as she listened to the even voice of the brunette. "In this instance I have gone headlong into something without regard to anything logical," Hermione's voice cracked slightly, "I have ignored the disparity in our ages, the differences in our upbringing, the chasm between our social, economic and political positions," the looming mountain of difficulty staggered Hermione. She looked at Minerva, who seemingly sat calmly letting her list all the possible repercussions of this venture. "How can you be so calm about this?" she expelled in frustration, echoing a question she had already asked the Headmistress. "It's mostly your life that will be impacted negatively."

Minerva addressed the easy question first, "I am calm because I already know what my decision will be." At Hermione's raised eyebrow, she expounded further, "I promised that if given the chance, I would do everything in my power to keep you. No matter what." She was not sure what to make of the shock the statement caused in brown eyes.

"And, I dare say, your life may be impacted just as negatively as my own," Minerva replied to the rest of the query evenly, keeping the tremble out of her voice by sheer force of will. She did not want to dissuade Hermione, but she did not want the young woman to be blind to the possible repercussions of any relationship between them, either. "The gossips of the world may say perhaps you are seeking my money, power or blood status. My name even. They may malign your name and turn your notoriety into a mockery. They may claim that your excellent marks at Hogwarts were due to my direct interference. They may call you heartless for leaving Ronald and shacking up with the Headmistress of Hogwarts. They may mock your intelligence, drive, and loyalty." Expelling a sigh, she shook her head and continued, "We face seemingly insurmountable odds, with no reason to take this beyond last night and past the doors of this cottage." Hermione's heart clenched in pain at the words, fear at this ending too soon gripped her.

"Except one," Minerva took the young woman's hands in her own, gently rubbing her thumbs over the back of Hermione's hands, "We love each other."

Looking down at their entwined hands, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut pain lancing through her at the words she was about to utter, "Sometimes, love isn't enough."

Raising the hands to her lips, the older witch kissed each tenderly. Green eyes fixed on brown when the young woman opened her eyes. "Why did you stand by Harry and Ronald through everything since your first year at Hogwarts?"

"Because they needed me," Hermione replied, brows furrowing in confusion at the off tangent line of questioning.

"Why did you care, either way, that they needed you?" Minerva probed further.

"Well," the brunette's voice took on a slightly amused tone, "I like to think of myself as a decent human being."

"Aye, that you are," Minerva conceded, "But, I know many decent human beings who would not have followed their friends through hell and high water. So, that begs the question, why did you stay when you could have bowed out at any time?"

"Because," Hermione licked her lips and paused, realization dawning, "because, I loved them."

Minerva nodded. "And, your parents," the Headmistress continued, "why did you erase your very existence from their minds and send them as far from England as possible?"

Hermione's eyes shifted away, that decision still weighing heavily on her heart, "I loved them too much to allow them to be put in the line of fire."

"And, Ronald, why did you let him walk away from your engagement but not out of your life?" she asked as neutrally as possible.

Hermione looked up into Minerva's warm eyes, "Because I love him too much, but not in the way he needed me to love him."

"And me, Hermione," the animagus' voice trembled, "why choose Gryffindor over Ravenclaw? Why aspire to never disappoint me? Why trust me to be your sounding board? Why request a Time-Turner to make sure you didn't have to choose between my class and expanding your intellectual horizons? Why sit by my bedside when I recovered from Umbridge's attack? Why warn me you would miss your last year? Why come back and fight when Harry was dead and Hogwarts had fallen? Why leave the party with me last night?"

Quiet reigned for several heartbeats, eyes locked in silent consideration.

Hermione's mind raced and her heart thumped loudly against her chest. She had already said the words she knew Minerva was asking for, and she had meant them. But repeating them, not in the heat of passion, not in the absence of her higher brain functions but in full faculty of her formidable intellect would mean no turning back.

Looking into an intense emerald gaze, the young woman realized she did not want to turn back. "Because I feel like I didn't even know what love was until you," the brunette uttered, not even realizing how romantic her rhetoric was, "Because I need you in my life." Chocolate eyes reflected everything she felt and was putting into words. "What I feel for you makes me irrational. It turns my world upside down. It's wonderful, and terrible, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. You've ruined me," Hermione gently disengaged her hands from Minerva's and wiped at the tears falling down the older woman's cheeks, "but, I find that I quite like it."

Minerva chuckled, blinking back the happy tears still threatening to fall. "Welcome to the club," she whispered in a thick voice. Hand coming up to softly clasp the hand cupping her cheek, the animagus pulled it to kiss the wrist. She placed several more kisses on the inside of Hermione's arm, trailing her kisses up to the crook of her elbow. Eyes shifting to chocolate, the Headmistress dispelled the charm concealing the mark Bellatrix branded on alabaster skin. Holding Hermione's arm firmly when she tried to jerk her hand away, Minerva kissed each letter left by the knife of the evil woman.

"You never have to hide from me," Minerva kept her voice soft, though inside she seethed with useless rage at the dead woman who left the mark, "I love you." She rained kisses and tears on the mark, trying to wash away the pain and stigma of that day from Hermione's mind, "I love you more than anything."

Laying her cheek on the word, the Headmistress looked up into tear filled brown eyes. "Love, Hermione," her voice cracked with the weight of her emotions, "is the strongest magic in the universe. It is not limited to boundaries. It is accessible to everyone and everything. It transpires time, space, life and death. It is the very essence of what magic is: unperverted, raw, powerful. What love binds cannot be unbound. Evil can touch it, but it does not change it."

She sat up and allowing her fingers to trace the mark. "All that is left is an imprint as a sign of victory. Harry carries one on his forehead; you, one on your arm; countless others, carry a mark physically on their person; while, other yet, carry non-visible ones on their hearts. But all stand a testament to love's unwavering strength." Knees touching, hands clasped together, heads leant toward one another, their eyes connected as if physically linked by a wire. "Our love can conquer any and all dissent for the rest of our lifetime," Minerva said without a single trace of doubt, "It has already overcome so much more."

Tears flowing freely from her eyes, Hermione raised Minerva's hands to lips, kissing the hands reverently. Mind blown by the creature sitting across from her. "Us against the world, then?" Her voice low and deep with emotion.

"If needs be," Minerva answered seriously, voice low and intimate promising the young woman everything.

Standing, the animagus pulled the young witch against her wrapping her arms around her waist. Hermione's arms circled Minerva's shoulders, her hands coming to rest on the back of the older woman's neck. Each released a simultaneous sigh at the press of their bodies.

"I love you," Minerva said into the quickly disappearing space between them.

"I love you, too," Hermione readily replied.

"And, _that_ is more than enough," whispered as her lips descended the final millimeters between them.

The caress of mouths cemented each witch's decision. It was a defining moment. The last drop before a cup overflowed; their love washing over each woman's heart like a bubbling spring. It was the melding of two souls, becoming one spirit in two bodies. It tasted of the present and future. It tasted of sunrises and stars. It tasted of love and passion.

It tasted of forever.

_**Fin** _


End file.
